


Bottoms Up

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Rainbow Marbles [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Castiel, Crying Sam, Demon Dean Winchester, Desperation, M/M, Multi, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts the same way every time. Dean drinks and drinks and drinks, water and juice and de-caffeinated soda. He never shows any outward signs of discomfort as he fills up throughout the morning, though Cas can see the bulge of his bladder through the clingy material of his shirt and knows that after three hours, Dean must be bursting. His only tell is the way his breathing speeds up ever so slightly just before he beckons Castiel over and says in his usual steady voice, “Bottoms up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottoms Up

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Urine drinking.

Castiel isn’t sure why Dean makes them go through this particular ritual, but he knows better than to complain. Besides, he doesn’t mind it, unlike Sam.

 

Castiel knows for a fact that Sam abhors this part of their life. Sam hates this once-monthly routine with such a fierce passion that Cas is surprised each and every time that Sam doesn’t refuse, but he figures that Sam knew better by now also.

 

It starts the same way every time. Dean drinks and drinks and drinks, water and juice and de-caffeinated soda. He never shows any outward signs of discomfort as he fills up throughout the morning, though Cas can see the bulge of his bladder through the clingy material of his shirt and _knows_ that after three hours, Dean must be bursting. His only tell is the way his breathing speeds up ever so slightly just before he beckons Castiel over and says in his usual steady voice, “Bottoms up.”

 

Then Castiel slowly unzips him – Dean allows him this, and has ever since that one time he’d scolded Castiel for dragging it out and Castiel had confessed shyly that he likes the idea of Dean all full and needy – and if he’s lucky, Dean’s breath will speed up just a little bit more at the delay. He pulls Dean’s cock out even slower, and this earns him an impatient huff and the tiniest knee bounce. Castiel grins inside because this is the most reaction he’s ever gotten from Dean during a moment like this. Then he slowly slides it into his mouth and ‘accidently’ lets it slip out. Dean actually _groans,_ but Cas knows he’s already pushed too far so he takes Dean back in and hums to signify his readiness.

 

Despite his desperation, Dean keeps the flow light and manageable. Castiel swallows and swallows and swallows until he’s out of air, then he taps Dean’s thigh three times in quick succession to indicate that he needs a break. The flow cuts off almost immediately and Castiel sucks down the last mouthful before pulling off and gasping for air. Every time they do this, Castiel is amazed by how _much_ is inside Dean, splashing around and lapping against the walls of his bladder and begging to be let out.

 

Sometimes he fantasizes about Dean being his submissive instead of the other way around. In his fantasies, he keeps Dean full and needy and desperate, because he just _knows_ that Dean would look amazing if he gave into those very human urges to squirm and beg and plead and _need._ He also knows that Dean knows what he thinks about. He doesn’t mind.

 

After his heart-rate calms, Castiel latches his mouth back onto Dean’s dick once more. Warm wetness floods his mouth as soon as he gives the ready signal, and Dean pisses for another eternity into his mouth. When the stream finally tapers off, Castiel feels warm and full.

 

Dean pours him a glass of juice and he sucks it down greedily, both to get rid of the taste and to fill himself up for what happens next. Dean starts drinking again, too, because he needs to be full also.

 

It takes an hour and a half before Castiel starts to feel desperate. The fullness in his stomach has become a fullness in his bladder, and his need grows more urgent with each passing second. Dean is still sitting nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just downed an ocean of liquid.

 

Castiel is reminded of a story Gabriel once told him about giants and a drinking horn that contained the entire sea. He feels as if he’s taken a mighty sip from that horn.

 

“Master, may I?” He asks.

 

Dean prods at the expanse of skin stretched taut over the distended bulge of his bladder. “Not yet.”

 

Castiel whines, because he needs to go _now._ He _knows_ that he can wait another half an hour, or forty-five, minutes, maybe, if he allows for leaks, because Dean has trained them to know every little flaw and function of their body in intimate detail. He also knows that he can hold it for an hour, if Dean helps him, because they’d tried that once, too – Dean sitting by his side, holding his hand, stroking his hair, saying, “You can do it,” and “Just a little longer, Cas,” and, “So good for me, just a minute more,” and “Hold it, baby.” Cas had cried throughout most of it, shaking his head and sobbing, “I _can’t,_ I’m sorry,” or “Please let me go, please,” or “I need,” or “It _hurts._ ”

 

Castiel squirms through fifteen more minutes before he tries again. “Please,” he whines.

 

“Few more minutes, Cas. Then I’ll let you go first.”

 

The thought of relief has him bouncing and shaking and gripping himself hard in an effort to hold on. Three minutes pass. “Master, please! I can’t hold it anymore!” He’s trembling with the effort of holding back, and he feels his eyes grow damp when Dean shakes his head.

 

“Five more minutes. Just five, I promise, and then you can go. Do you need help holding it until then?”

 

Castiel nods shakily. He feels a single tear escape and quickly wipes it away. Dean sits next to him and talks him through it, holding his hand and pressing gentle kisses to his temple until the five minutes are up.

 

“Come here, Sammy,” Dean orders. Sam obediently comes to kneel before Cas. Cas holds out his cock and Sam reluctantly takes it into his mouth. He can’t help the spurt that escapes as soon as Sam’s lips close around his length, and he cuts it off as quickly as he can, moaning at the feeling of being denied the relief he so desperately needs.

 

“Take it slow,” Dean says. “You don’t want to choke him. And wait until he’s ready.”

 

Cas nods, because he doesn’t want to hurt Sam. Then Sam hums and he lets go. He can’t control the stream at first, and then he feels Sam tapping his thigh and clamps down immediately. Sam pulls away, coughing, and Cas could cry because letting go and then stopping is _torture._

 

“Slow, Cas,” Dean admonishes. Sam takes a few moments to breathe before taking Cas back into his mouth, and Cas is grateful when he gives the ready signal right away. He lets go, just a little at a time, and finds a pace that lets Sam swallow easily. It’s hard, because he’s so full and _aching_ to let go, but he forces himself to go slowly because he knows that if he goes any faster Sam will just pull away again and he’ll be forced to wait even longer.

 

Sam doesn’t need a break, much to Castiel’s relief. Once he’s finally, finally empty, Sam pulls away and sucks in a great big gasp of air.

 

Dean gives him a few minutes to catch his breath before pulling Sam down on his cock and feeding Sam his own golden stream. Sam moans when Dean releases him, not from pleasure but from the unbearable fullness that must come along with drinking two people’s bladders. Cas doesn’t know first-hand what Sam feels like, because they always do this in a particular order, but he can imagine.

 

Castiel counts Sam’s endurance and Dean’s cruelty in minutes. Seventy-two minutes in, Sam asks to be relieved. At ninety-three minutes, he starts begging. Dean makes him wait until the one-fifty mark, until Sam is panting and sobbing and _wrecked._ Cas has been waiting between his knees since minute one-thirty, because even though he knows what the temptation must be doing to Sam’s desperation, he doesn’t want him to have to wait even a second longer than necessary when Dean finally gives his permission.

 

Despite the wild state of desperate, frantic need he knows Sam is in, the taller man manages to keep his flow thin and steady. Sam cries for five more minutes even after he’s done, so Cas just stays between his legs, nuzzling his thigh as Sam pulls himself together piece by piece. Then Sam touches him, just a quick, gentle press of his palm against Castiel’s cheek, and Cas smiles because he knows it means things like _thanks_ and _love_.

 

Cas knows it’s almost over. He knows that when he gets full enough, Dean will have him let go in a little glass cup. He and Sam will share it between them and Dean will dip his finger in and bring it to his lips for just the slightest of tastes, and then it’ll be just another day for them as soon as Dean chooses their next game.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts/requests are welcome.


End file.
